


War Never Changes

by Dr_Harbinger



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergence - Battle of Hogwarts, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark, Gen, Templar Training (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Harbinger/pseuds/Dr_Harbinger
Summary: Warden Commander Edmund Cousland had been in this world 10 years now, raising Kieran with Morrigan in a safe place far from the war and prejudice of Thedas. But now war has come upon the Circle of Magi called Hogwarts and he would not stand aside and let them fight this battle alone. He would consider it one last service for this world before he returned home with his family at the behest of Inquisitor and revived Dalish god Dirthamen. He prayed his blade and Dirthamen's magic would be enough.





	War Never Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This not quite crack fic was a piece I wrote as part of a writing exercise I tend to do on my day off. Nothing was betaed. It was barely edited. I expect a lot of negative comments on this piece but please leave some constructive criticism in them. If it's liked well enough perhaps I'll see about writing a more in depth story about a Dragon Age character in the Harry Potter world. Let me know.

This place wasn’t ready for war. Not like the horrors he had been called upon to witness in Ferelden. But at least he wasn’t alone here. He wasn’t the only soldier from Thedas here to defend this Circle in this odd world that had not seen war like he had for centuries. The mage was here too. The Inquisitor. And that elven mage’s power was nothing like he had ever seen before. The people here had seemed unsure how to treat him. Elves didn’t exist here, least of all an elven god of old. He still had trouble believing it himself. But that mattered little now. It had been years since his sword had been stained in blood. His shield, while familiar, wasn’t as easy to carry as it once was. His armor felt heavier too. He blamed his old age. His lack of need of it in this world. Until now, clearly. But he would wear it regardless. He would wear the old flaming sword with pride, draw down the deep navy hood on the gambeson designed like a Chantry robe, and hope it would be enough to protect his head from any blows that might come. The helmet he had lost long ago and this world didn’t exactly have blacksmiths anymore. There was no Maker in this world. Just a deity called God. He hoped this God would watch over the children if nothing else.

The mages of this world didn’t have the sheer destructive power that they had in Thedas but that didn’t mean that they were not formidable. He would not have been able to take them all on his own. But the elven mage proved, when he conjured a storm with just a thought, that his power might be more than enough to tip the odds in their favor. His long fingered hands wove spells the Warden couldn’t remember having heard before but he felt their power none the less.

He only started feeling nervous when the gathered storm started raining and the rain itself seemed to fall and burn the ground it landed upon outside the shield. Lightning danced around the clouds, barely lighting their battlefield and a thick cloud of blackness started to form beyond the boundary of the barrier. The Warden’s stomach twisted at the sight of it. A death cloud. The people of this world would not be able to stand within it for more than a moment or two and the rain that was falling… “Wait!” He cried, “Don’t! Think of the children!” His warnings fell on deaf ears. He felt the pulse of power as the mage cast his spells through the barriers at the first of the enemies gathering. Walking bombs. Oh no. The people would not be ready for this. Not nearly ready enough.

Screams filled the air. Bodies exploded. Those that were not mages tried to charge the barrier only to get caught in the death cloud and collapse. Those that were not bound to the land tried to fly around it. Lightning struck anything that got too close to the barrier. Even the wisps of smoke that, upon being struck, reformed into people. So much death already and the barrier the Enchanters had put up hadn’t truly been tested yet. The bombardment began in earnest from beyond the barrier. The Warden watched it start to track despite the efforts of the elven mage. The rain shifted. It stopped burning as the cracks became bigger and when it finally shattered it was back to being normal rain. The Warden drew his trusted blade as pillars of smoke flew in and formed into people. Before one could regain its footing he bashed the man with his shield hard enough to throw them a few feet away, probably breaking a bone or two in the process. The battle had begun in earnest.

The battle was fierce in a different way than it had been in Thedas. The spells burned as they struck his shield and armor but otherwise did him little harm. One knocked his sword out of his hand but he was able to retrieve it easily enough upon knocking the mage into a stone wall with his shield hard enough to knock him out. For the most part, though the Warden tried to focus on the not mages gathered, the werewolves and other beasts that fought amongst the enemy. He had the means to take them down. These people did not and were being massacred. He would not stand for it. He didn’t look to watch the elven mage. He was sure the old god was more than powerful enough to take care of himself and any fool who would be stupid enough to try and engage him. The Warden thought that after going so long without killing he would have trouble doing it again. He didn’t. He felt like he should have been worried about that but it was something he would worry about it later. After the Circle was safe and the enemy were either all dead or chased away. He just had to keep going until the Chosen Boy returned from wherever he had gone. 

He didn't how long it had taken but eventually the Dark Lord was defeated. The few that hadn’t been killed or crippled fled. The rain that still feel was trying in vain to wash away the blood from the battle but Warden Commander Edmund Cousland knew it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would. If there was a Veil it would have been torn asunder by what happened here. But there wasn’t. And so he stood and let the rain wash as much blood from his armor, sword and shield as it could. The elven Inquisitor, the god Dirthamen, looked sadly over the carnage he had wrought upon these people and creatures. He said something in elvish that sounded like a prayer over the worst of it, something perhaps to release their souls from the mess that was left of their bodies. Then their bodies caught aflame in green fire. An odd color but one of cleansing maybe? Edmund had no idea. But the people left here had dead to gather. Wounded to treat. That he could help with.

But he and Dirthamen were not treated with the respect of heroes when they went with the wounded into the castle. Instead they were threatened. Treated with fear. Edmund had his weapons taken from him. They tried to bind Dirthamen but only succeeded in angering him. They were called monsters for the death that they had direct hands in. Dirthamen himself was accused of being a dark lord. The elf wrinkled his nose at their words. “You shemlen are all the name, no matter what world.” They tried to apprehend him. He slipped from their fingers and disappeared though to where Edmund had no idea. Edmund was told to place his hands on his head as he was escorted down into the depths of the dungeon, still chilled by the rain, his armor and face still splattered with what blood the rain hadn’t been able to wash away to be locked away. He let them do what they wanted. He wasn’t of their world yet he had broken their laws. 

In the darkness, while he awaited their decisions he sang the Chant of Light to keep himself company. He expected to be left for days. With the chains it was tricky to undo his armor but he managed slowly to remove most of the metal pieces. All except the gauntlets. These pieces he set aside as best he was able and settled himself in a corner to wait for their judgement. He would take whatever punishment they saw fit, he decided. This place wasn’t his home but it was Kieran’s. It was the only world his son had known and would know until the time came to take him back to Thedas. He could only hope Morrigan would forgive him for getting himself killed before then, even if he had done it to save their boy’s future school.

But it wasn’t the people who came back for him. It was Dirthamen himself and the fury in his golden eyes was something that scared even Edmund himself. The chains fell apart under the elf’s touch as electricity sparked through them and with barely a thought the armor he had struggled to take off had been almost forcefully strapped to him again. “These people plan to execute you for your role in this. For the sake of the children. They are barbarians and primitives. Come. It is time to return to Thedas. The war for our world needs knights like you again.” His sword and shield appeared out thin air. A spirit fled, screaming about their escape. Oh Maker no…

They broke out of the dungeon but this time when the mages came at them he didn’t raise his blade to them, just carried his shield as the mage cast his mind blast spells, paralysis spells and others that were harmless but kept those attacking them to be rendered harmless. They all fell one by one. He was grateful. He didn’t want to have to hurt them. Not these people who had seen enough horror now. Who knew the true nature of what war could be. Of what war should never have to become again. Eventually they made their way up to the first floor and it here that the First Enchanter along with the strongest mages remaining had them surrounded. He could only deflect so much magic and the elven mage… well. There was only so much he was willing to hold back.

“You will release us,” Dirthamen said with, his magic twisted around him in the form of golden lightning that seemed to reach out to those stupid enough to stand so close, “and in doing so will avoid any more harm to the few of you remaining. This man followed your laws. He did not kill with magic. He slaughtered beasts that were threatening you and yours. Yet because he dared to spill blood here you would have him executed? Idiots. We will return to our world. We have need of his sword arm and conviction. You are unworthy of him.”

They mages seemed uncertain so placed his shield on his back again and showed his hands as best he could. Then his eyes spotted the Chosen Child who, at seventeen, had the eyes of a hardened warrior. It was sad to see but not so unusual amongst those in the Order or even in the cities back home. He turned towards the boy and asked the Chosen One what he would have these people do. They clearly believed he was someone of importance here, despite his age. And the mages, although they didn’t lower their guards seemed to pause to try to figure out who he was speaking to. The boy stepped forward, clearly confused by both him and the elven mage whose deep hood had fluttered back with his show of power. That's right. He had not been there before the battle. He had not seen them before.


End file.
